


Tugging At His Apron Strings

by Blucifer



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 20 something problems and victories, 69 (Sex Position), Anal Sex, Blue Apron AU, College bro Felix, Cooking, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Hello Fresh AU, M/M, Meal Subscription Box Au, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Slice of Life, Snowballing, Top Felix, Young Professional Chan, bottoming from the top chan, domestic porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blucifer/pseuds/Blucifer
Summary: Chan is totally nailing this whole "adulting" thing. New job, new apartment, new sofa. He's even ordered a meal subscription box to avoid takeout on weeknights, which is a great idea in theory. Except, the boxes keep going missing, and his really, really cute neighbor is the number one suspect.





	Tugging At His Apron Strings

“Seriously?” Chan comes home to an empty step, and an empty stomach. He purposefully avoided a much needed trip to the grocery store after work because he was _supposed_ to have his choice of Flank steak with chimichurri sauce and string beans, parmesan and rosemary crusted porkchops with almond couscous and roasted carrots, or peach balsamic chicken thighs with roasted fingerling potatoes and roasted Brussels sprouts.

Supposed to, but this was the _second_ time his meal subscription box has gone missing. The first time, the company begrudgingly delivered him an additional box free of charge. The operator asking with suspicion, “maybe your neighbor has it sir?” when he finally got on the line with a real person. Who would steal his meal subscription box? He lives in a nice enough neighborhood.

But just to be certain, and because it has been almost two months and he hasn’t introduced himself to his neighbor, Chan decides to walk up the long staircase up the back of the house.

It’s different than his half of the house. The mailbox is overflowing with bills. A few t-shirts are left out on the railing to dry in the sun. There’s a faded loveseat with stuffing spilling from the upholstery on the patio near the door.

He can only assume that his neighbor is a student, because he’s close to the university and he’s heard chatter on Friday and Saturday nights. Drunken laughter and music cranked up high, but nothing disruptive.

Chan knocks on the door and waits, fully expecting no one extraordinary. Maybe a girl with messy bun and yoga pants, or a boy who believes that backwards baseball caps and cargo shorts are high fashion.

What he’s greeted with instead makes his heart skip a beat.

A cupid’s bow, drawn tight, hjs neighbor shoots Chan right in the chest when his neighbor’s soft mouth curls into kind and contagious smile.

Immediately, Chan feels his own expression lighten. His palms, suddenly sweaty, so he wipes them against his pants.

Stark white hair, and not a hint of roots, how does he do that? Because even when Chan used to go to a salon it was a matter of hours, not days, before dark brown poked through.

“Hi, I’m Chris, well actually, everyone calls me Chan, except my mom.” _What the hell?_ Moving to a new city has been hard _,_ but he’s not this lonely or desperate. It’s just that this guy is cute okay? Like there’s nothing _uncute_ about pale skin dappled with soft brown freckles. Especially when they’re dusted over not only on his face, but down his chest and his abdomen. He can see all of this of course, because he’s shirtless. Because of course he is. The birth marks dusted across his skin ebb and flow in their density. They multiply over the skin along his flank, disappear into unblemished skin pulled over compact muscle, only to have a small crescent shaped birthmark rest just above his belly button.

“I live downstairs, I just kind of moved in,” it’s been like two months, but who is counting.

Not only is he shirtless, he’s not really wearing pants, only wearing underwear. His boxer briefs are pale blue with a navy colored band, the fabric is patterned with little red boxes of French fries. Letters curl around the pattern, “fry-day.” 

“I was wondering if you’d accidentally been sent my—” In his neighbor’s hand is a half-eaten peach. The stone peaks out from soft yellow red fruit. Juice runs down his hand, and his chin and onto his chest.

Peach glazed chicken thighs.

“Meal subscription box.” Chan looks past his neighbor, past an oversized armchair with a Spiderman comforter spread across it like a sofa slip, past the television with a video game paused, into the kitchenette, where several open cardboard boxes, adorned with forks and knives, sit upturned on the floor.

“Oh my god, you’re Chris Bang?” Eyes wide, jaw slack.

“Yeah.”

His neighbor stuffs his hand down the front of his boxers and scratches his balls unapologetically. “Dude, I am so sorry, first of all, I had no idea anyone had moved in downstairs. The downstairs unit has been vacant for like, eight months. You know, because of the thing with the bees.”

He actually does not know _._

“Second of all, your name sounds fake as hell. But I’m still so sorry.”

“It’s fine, they didn’t charge me for the other one.”

“Let me get it for you. You can come inside. I’m Felix by the way. I’ve lived here for like, a little over a year now.”

Chan does. Kind of. He stands awkwardly in the small square of linoleum tile by the door, and avoids the carpet entirely. Felix pulls several packets from his fridge, which seems to be stocked with little else other than mustard, mayonnaise, and a rainbow’s worth of Seagram’s Escapes malt liquor bottles.

Ew.

Sure, he’s what, four months out from his own collegiate fridge, but at least his own fridge is sparsely stocked with almond milk, name brand seltzer water, soupy spoiled greens and…mustard. “I’m sorry, I kind of ate the peach for one of the dishes. It just looked really ripe.”

“That’s okay,” maybe. Seems so inconvenient to just go out for one peach…

“Ah man, I gotta say though I really wanted to eat the steak. It looked really good.”

Chan speaks before really thinks it through. “Do you wanna come over for dinner? It’s supposed to be enough for two, and I wanted to eat that tonight anyway.” 

“Seriously?” Felix whips his head up from the refrigerator and looks at him with wide and expectant eyes.

“Yeah sure.” He doesn’t even have to put on a shirt if he doesn’t want to.

“Hell yeah.” Felix pulls the rest of the items from the fridge and hands Chan the box. “Let me put on a shirt.”

Unfortunate.

Okay. Maybe he’s a little lonely and a little desperate.

Felix pulls on not only a shirt, but also a pair of khaki cargo shorts. As unfortunate as that is, when his eyes settle on Felix’s stomach, he still knows that the crescent shaped birthmark is there underneath his cornflower blue t-shirt. Like he’s been let in on some kind of amazing secret.

In this time, Chan surveys the living room and kitchen of the apartment. There’s a dusty particle board bookshelf filled with games and BluRay DVDs. A few figurines rest on top: a knocked over Gundam, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, Raphael he thinks, and a figurine of a pink haired catgirl with giant breasts. Nice.

When Felix returns, he extracts several bottles of Segrams from the fridge in blue, and green and pink. Stuffing a few in his shorts pockets and balancing the rest in the crook of his arm, he asks Chan, “hey, can you shove this into the food box and bring it down?” Felix gestures to an unopened box of chocolate Entenmann’s donuts on the counter. “You know, like for dessert.

He hasn’t had these since he was a kid. “Nice.”

And just like that Chan leads a boy that he just met downstairs to his apartment for dinner.

* * *

So, Felix’s neighbor is hot. Felix’s neighbor is hot and he’s decided that he isn’t going to press charges for petty theft. Or larceny. Or burglary. Or robbery. Why are there so many names for crimes involving stealing?

“When did you move in? I didn’t even see the trucks,” Felix hasn’t been in the downstairs unit since just before he moved in. When the girls lived here, they had him over a few times for beers. He shouldn’t be surprised when the pale pink floor rug the photo collage picture frames, and kpop photo cards tacked to the refrigerator with magnets are all gone.

But he is surprised.

In their absence is an apartment left in the disarray of unpacking. A nice heather gray sectional is offset by an end table partially assembled. He’s got a framed Final Fantasy poster hung up on the wall, and several other framed posers lean against the wall resting against the carpet waiting to be hung.

“Uh, like July,” Chan admits sheepishly.

“Oh, I must’ve still been on summer break when you moved in. I take it you’re not a student?”

“Nope. But I work at the university. Got my first real job as an assistant coach for the women’s diving team, so I started with the term.” 

Oh, that’s just the worst.

Cause now he’s imagining what his neighbor, someone who he’s going to have to awkwardly wave to on his way out the door or going up the steps with too many grocery bags hung on his arms, looks like in swim trunks.

Wait.

Competitive swimming. That means tiny, tight suits.

“Sorry if I was ever too loud. I honestly didn’t know anyone had moved in. But my friends have been coming over more than usual. My boyfrie-ex-boyfriend dumped me at a 4th of July party. It was like a whole thing? And they keep coming over to check in.” Oh, okay. He’s just going to overshare. That’s cool.

“I get it man. The guy I was kind of sort of seeing before I moved broke it off with me because I was moving. And my friends are like, texting me all the time, like even now,” Chan pulls his phone from his pocket and flashes a page full of banner notifications. “Making sure I’m not just, I guess coming home from work every day and eating ice cream in the dark.”

Felix laughs, and hangs onto fragments of what Chan just said. _Guy. Seeing. Was._ His heart skips a beat.

Get it together Lee, this is not going to be like the guy at the Marathon station. Wait Chan’s asked him something and expects a response.

“What? I mean uh? I’m a Junior?” Felix hopes that’s the right answer, but Chan looks at him expectantly like there’s more to be said. “And my major is in exercise physiology? Because I want to be a physical therapist when I grow up.”

This seems to satisfy Chan. “That’s really cool. So, you have like a while to go, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Chan pulls a packet out of the box, and then unloads the rest of the box’s contents into the refrigerator.

Felix can see almond milk inside. A lot of almond milk. Who needs that much almond milk?

Whatever. For lack of anything better to do, Felix cracks open a blue Seagram’s. 

“Oh, in that case.” Chan extracts a bottle of wine from a reusable shopping bag on the floor near the trash can. Inside are several other bottles of red wine that lingers between price points of “just out of his budget” but, “his mother would not drink it”. Chan takes a corkscrew and gets the cork undone in a single attempt with no bits of cork left behind. “You can have some of this too if you want.”

Chan begins to unpack the parcel that reads “steak frites” across the front.

“Okay. What can I do to help?”

“Um, honestly?” Chan looks at the recipe card in his hand and then toward a mountain of small boxes. “Can you help me find my knives?”

* * *

Chan’s never been shy but talking to Felix is incredibly easy. The conversation bubbles up organically from the spring of shared experiences, and trickles outward into their unique and divergent paths. When the conversation slows, it feels natural, like pausing for a breath, instead of gasping for the next conversational topic.

Felix admits that he used to be on swim team in high school.

Chan confesses that he likes Gundam, but just started watching Macross. He’ll save discussion of Felix’s cat girl figurine for another time.

Felix slices the fingerling potatoes into uneven strips. Chan steams some string beans.

Felix tells him about the town, like where to get the cheapest long islands and the best 2 a.m. breakfast. And when the small talk is over, they move on to the substantial.

“No, no, no, no. By your logic, which is wrong by the way, cream of broccoli soup is a cereal and instant oatmeal is a soup.”

Felix grimaces, “I forgot about stuff like that,” as people often do when they try to argue that milk is a requirement separating cereal from soup. Beginner’s mistake. Felix drains the rest of his drink and goes for another one. Chan isn’t really sure how anyone can have that much sugar without getting a headache, but he’s on his third glass of wine himself.

His cheeks glow red, arguably from alcohol and the fact that his window air conditioner is pushed to the absolute limit in this strange, magical, part of the year when shorts and AC are a must, but pumpkin spice lattes creep into cafés. His freckles look darker when his face is flushed.

“Okay next we need to,” Felix shuts off the water tap, and points his wet hand onto the crumpled recipe card. “Bake fingerling potato wedges at 400 degrees.”

“Ah, I didn’t preheat.” Chan walks the half step from where he stands over to the stove and reaches for the dial.

So does Felix.

They bump together in the way that only two people can in a small kitchen. Unavoidable, they touch in strange, mismatched places, in ways that you wouldn’t bump into someone else on the train or in a crowded elevator. Hips bump together. Sock feet drag against sock feet.

“Oops.”

“Sorry.”

And a reluctance to move away, like neither of them mean it.

“If you’re done with this cutting board, I’ll wash it.”

“Okay,” Chan responds.

Now it’s Chan’s turn to consult the all-knowing, glossy, 4x6 recipe card. _Place pre-seasoned steak in hot skillet with oil._

Chan walks to the cabinet near the sink and stands on his tip toes to reach the mid shelf where he’s _pretty sure_ he put it when he made a fried egg last weekend. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he cups Felix’s flank at the hidden, private place where the ribcage stops and firm, supple flesh begins. “Let me just—” Chan leans up over Felix, his chest pressed against Felix’s back.

“Sure,” like its something they do all the time.

Chan reaches for the skillet and doesn’t want to stop touching Felix’s warm skin.

Oil, heat, steak, _simmer._

“Ah-that smells so good already,” Felix says with a satisfied hum.

“I know, it’s been forever since I’ve made beef at home.”

“Right? I usually just make up a bunch of chicken breasts at the beginning of the week and eat them til they’re gone.”

“Me too,” Chan confesses. “Okay, the sauce next.” Chan successfully makes up the sauce, although it’s difficult to mess up when everything is pre-measured and all he has to do is rough chop some cilantro, parsley, and shallots and then pour vinegar over them.

“Does this need more salt?” Chan offers a minute amount of sauce on a spoon, while cupping his hand underneath to prevent spillage.

Felix accepts Chan’s offering, and Chan watches as soft pink lips close around the edge of the spoon. Raspberry tongue darting out to lap at his lower lip. “No, I think that’s really good.” 

So close that Chan can see individual lashes, or count each individual freckle, Felix looks at Chan expectantly.

_Should he?_

Oh god, he’s doing it again. That thing where he lays it on thick and then realizes what he’s doing, and that it could be awkward.

A small yet indignant huff escapes Felix’s mouth. Hands come to rest upon his shoulder and his chest. Chan leans in, certain now, yet their kiss is still tentative and docile. Felix’s lips exert barely any pressure on his own. They part with a whisper, not a smack.

Chan tries again. More pressure, trace Felix’s lips and dip his tongue into his mouth. He wants more, but he’s blocked by his strawberry shaped kitchen timer alerting him that something is going to burn if he doesn’t move fast.

_Damn._

* * *

Felix has to run upstairs for plates, and forks, and knives. Chan threw out his warped plastic set from college, never replaced them, and ran out of disposables.

“I haven’t bought a table yet either. We can sit on the sofa?”

“I want to talk to you. You know, like look at you and stuff.” _Because Chan is good looking._ So, they sit on the floor.

“Please, have something good to drink. I’ve been stressed out watching you drink that stuff all night.”

“Um, blue malt liquor pairs well with steak. Michelin says so.”

“Michelin?” Chan laughs. “You’re saying that like it’s just some guy.” Chan pours him eighteen, maybe twenty dollar a bottle wine into a stemless wineglass. Felix sets it onto the cream-colored carpet carefully.

“It’s not?”

“I really don’t know Felix.”

Upon his first bite, Felix announces, “ah-this is so good.” Maybe the sigh that he makes is a bit _more than_ appreciative. But between the wine, and the hot neighbor, and the good meat, yeah, it absolutely is worth being horny for. Felix cuts off a piece of steak and pushes his fries into the bright red juice.

“Tastes better when it’s stolen right?”

“I returned it!”

“Let me try.” Chan pushes a piece of meat into the green sauce and then raises it to his mouth. “Wow, this is really good.”

For a moment, all they can do is stuff their faces in silence. Then, Chan speaks again, “we make a pretty good team right.”

* * *

“Felix,” Chan nuzzles his ear and presses his lips against the soft skin just below the lobe. The kissing started again as soon as they’d cleaned their plates, and has not stopped. “Has anyone told you that you’re like, really cute?”

“Chan,” Felix fumbles for a plate underneath the soapy dishwater. Hands wet up to almost his elbows, he stands at the sink. Chan stands behind him at the sink, the tension thick enough to cut with his As Seen on TV Ginsu knife. “Have I told you I got it bad for the neighbor boy?”

“Me too.” Half hard, he rocks against Felix’s ass. Four layers of clothing between them, it’s barely anything worth being ashamed of. Especially when Chan himself has one hand splayed across Felix’s chest, and the other in the pocket of his cargo shorts, cupping his thigh and teasing his cock.

This escalated quickly, but he can’t say that he really minds.

“Do you have um, lube?”

Tracing the pad of his thumb down the length of Felix’s cock, “yes.”

“Condoms?”

Grinding the heel of his palm against the tip, “yes,” why wouldn’t he?

“Look, I need to know if I need to go upstairs before we start.”

“I even have a bed too.” 

“Fancy. How’d you know I’m not a huge fan of carpet burn.” Felix rinses the final dish, reaches down into the sink, and pulls the stopper. Turn on his heel and fists his soapsuds covered hands into Chan’s shirt pulling him into a hungry kiss.

“So, you want to?”

* * *

Felix gets lucky. Yeah, he gets lucky, lucky, but like _lucky_. Like the patron saint of insta-fuck is on his side, and he’s pretty certain that’s covered by the St. Christopher medal in his wallet, right?

They don’t just get along when talking about anime no one else has heard of. They get along really well in the bedroom. Seamlessly. Like they’ve been dating for two or three months, and they’re comfortable, but all they wanna do is fuck. 

Peel off their shirts, wriggle out of their pants and socks, and collapse onto the bed. Felix notices immediately that Chan has a _really_ nice dick. It just so happens that Felix really likes sucking cock. He kind of has to put his mouth on it? So, he does.

Lips wrapped around Chan’s cock, he Felix teases him, pursing his lips around the head and letting the tip slide in-between his lips with a faint smacking sound.

But it’s pretty clear that, “gentle forearm touch, have some good wine” Chan isn’t the kind of guy who is just going to let Felix set the pace. Not content to just let Felix suck his cock, he taps at Felix’s thigh demanding attention. At first, Felix pays it no mind at all. Too busy lapping at the tip of Chan’s cock, chasing every generous drop of pre-cum.

“Felix,” is all the warning that he gets before he’s reminded, they’ve covered a lot of ground tonight and it’s easy to forget the details, that Chan is an athlete. Chan sits up, grabs at his hips, and Chan all but forces him to sit on his face. It’s the kind of thing that would be sexy, if he didn’t basically kick Chan in the head in the process.

“Sorry!” But also, “I guess?” It’s totally Chan’s fault. Felix does his best to adjust his body so that the kneels with one knee on either side of Chan’s face.

“It’s fine.” Chan’s voice is muffled.

Then, “Ohgod,” at the warm wet feeling of tongue pressed against the tip of his cock.

It’s not even been that long, but there’s something about the whole thing that’s just so is-it-or-isn’t illicit. The fact that they just met, and the fact that just because they played house for two hours doesn’t negate the fact that they just met. Doesn’t negate the fact that this is more like a quick anonymous fuck than not.

Chan mouths at the tip of his cock and takes him in deeper, and deeper, and deeper until he swears that he can feel the tickle of faint breath against his curls.

_Fuck._

The feeling of his cock hitting Chan’s soft pallet, and the feeling of Chan doing his best to adjust around him, makes it difficult to reciprocate, and for a moment all he can do is chase jolt after electric jolt of pleasure as he greedily thrusts into Chan’s mouth.

A low moan around his cock jumpstarts Felix into action. Hollow his cheeks, and take Chan in deep, Felix does his best to not only keep up with Chan, but surpass him. Make him writhe, make him squirm, and make him gasp around his cock so that Felix can feel the hum in Chan’s throat.

Chan bathes the underside of his cock in long laps. Takes him without difficulty when Felix gets swept up in the warm-wet of Chan’s mouth and fucks into his mouth. He like, really shouldn’t do that, but it feels so good.

Felix’s own tongue traces pulsing veins as Chan twitches into his mouth. Teases the slit and the ridge before plunging back down.

But that isn’t enough for Felix. Wants to do something, anything to let Chan know how good this feels. How cool he thinks that he is.

Felix slides against the smooth sheets, readjusts himself so that instead of grabbing onto Chan’s thighs for dear life, his hands are planted on either side. Then, moves them so that he’s cupping the underside. He can totally manhandle too if he wants. Well, he can try. So, he tries to heave Chan’s body upward, but in that moment, he’s reminded that Chan’s just a little bit bigger and a little bit stronger.

“Oof,”

Chan pulls off of his cock with a _pop. “_ Felix, what are you doing?”

“I wanted to eat you out,” his voice sounds desperate now.

“What really?”

“Yeah? I don’t know it just seemed—” But he’s cut off by Chan jostling him again, rolling him back onto the mattress and grabbing for pillows.

Felix watches with rapt fascination as Chan props his own hips up with two off-white colored pillows. Draws his legs up toward his chest and then, “well get back on top.”

“Oh my god.”

Felix does as he’s told, squeezing Chan’s thighs and lowering himself down. Chan smells faintly of musk and sweat. Normal, after coming in from outside and cooling down in the AC. He rakes his tongue down Chan’s shaft one last time, kissing against the soft supple skin of his sac, and testing the weight in his mouth before going down lower and swiping his tongue across his hole.

Cham mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like, “Felix,” against his cock.

So Felix repeats the action.

Satisfied with Chan’s response, a muted whimper around his cock, he continues, lapping in slow, sloppy circles against Chan’s hole until he’s wet. Teases the rim with the tip of his tongue until Chan fitfully writhes beneath him trying so desperately to get more.

Then, Felix traces a long line back up his perineum, over his balls before taking his cock back into his mouth completely. Abandoning his own pleasure, if only momentarily, he bobs up and down on Chan’s cock relentlessly.

Never deterred by Chan’s fitful, needy moans, or a breathy warning that’s meant to be ignored, “I’m gonna cum.” Felix sucks him until Chan is pulsing and cumming into his mouth.

When they kiss again, it’s awkward. Felix usually doesn’t swallow. Cum tastes so acidic. So while he’s sitting on the foot edge of the bed, looking for a trashcan, or a tissue, or at least trying to remember where the bathroom is, Chan pulls him in for a kiss, needy and deep.

And if he’s bothered by the fact that they’re kissing with his cum passed between their mouths, he doesn’t show it at all.

And its way, way hotter than it should be.

Chan pulls him back into bed. “Do you wanna fuck me?” Chan asks him between long, lazy kisses. One hand tilting Felix’s chin and the other on his cock, they lay side by side in bed now, with Chan as the big spoon. Post orgasm haze cleared from his brain, he holds Felix close and works his cock with an agonizing slowness.

Like he isn’t trying to make him cum right now. Just trying to make him feel good.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

Chan rolls over to the other side of the bed, rises, and extracts condoms from the top drawer of his chest of drawers.

“Oops,” Upon tearing away the wrapper, Felix immediately starts rolling it down backwards. Chan corrects, taking the condom from him and rolling it downward. Then, he takes the lube and rubs it up and down Felix’s cock with a firm grip until the latex doesn’t catch because of friction.

Chan’s guided him through the whole thing despite being the one who is getting fucked, and he can’t say that he minds. He’s only topped a handful of times, each of those so very stressful.

But with Chan he doesn’t have to worry.

“I should be fine, if you just go slow,” Chan says this as he sits on his side, presumably smearing lube across his hole.

Breath shaky, Felix is pretty sure that he says _something_ like “okay” as they slide back into a spooning position much like before. This time, Chan slotted in front of Felix.

Good doesn’t even begin to describe the way that it feels when he fucks into Chan. It’s like he’s aware, not only of everything in his own body, but Chan’s too. He can feel Chan draw up tight around his cock and try to relax, only to tighten and relax all over again when his own cock twitches deep inside. His hand rises and falls with each breath as it rests upon Chan’s chests. Legs tangled together, he knows that Chan’s toes are curled.

When he does move his hips, Chan’s reaction is immediate. A harsh gasp falls from his mouth.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just sensitive,” Chan cranes his neck to kiss him once again, slowly, and meticulously.

Felix takes at is as Chan setting the tone once again. He works his hips in slow circles, barely pulling out, and grinding his cock in, staying buried deep inside. Over and over until Chan’s larger body melts against his own and the harsh, breathy gasps that spill from his mouth turn into heavy, needy moans.

Then, and only then does Felix leverage his own body. Feet tangled together, he guides Chan down onto his stomach. Grabbing his hips roughly, he pulls almost all the way out, and sl-ides back in slowly. Then, he repeats this motion, pushing back faster and gradually faster until he’s fucking Chan into the mattress relentlessly.

Until all that’s left is the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, and their incoherent sex-babble. Until he’s asking, no begging Chan to take the condom off and cum on his ass.

Cock in hand, it only takes two, _maybe_ three firm handed tugs before he’s pulsing into his hand and cumming across the small of Chan’s sun kissed back and ass.

Chan smiles at him that’s so warm and so genuine. Like even though they’ve just met, that smile really, truly is meant for Felix alone.

* * *

“You want some?” Felix shakes the box of chocolate Entenmann's at Chan.

“Uhm..” Nothing is perfect. There have to be repercussions to fucking the neighbor just a few hours after meeting. Eating in bed is one such consequence. 

A flash of blue and patterned French fries flash before him as Felix climbs back in bed with him, half eaten donut in hand.

Everything about tonight is a splurge, why should dessert be any different? He can wash the sheets tomorrow. Chan reaches for a donut, “yeah, why not?” and takes a bite. 

“God, can you imagine what would’ve happened if I’d like,” Felix wipes chocolate crumbs from his face. “Been getting your porn DVDs or something?”

“DVDs? I’m not old”

“Think about it though. This was just dinner. Porn would’ve been _crazy._ Actually, someone that use to live in my old unit got porn sent to there. I’ve gotten so many mailers for stuff. You know, _MILF Mayhem. Slippery When Wet 3.”_

“You just went through the old tennant’s mail? I’m detecting a pattern here,” Chan laughs. 

“Anyway!” Felix’s voice raises slightly with embarrassment. “Do you want to come over on like, Friday? I can uh,” Felix pauses as if his mind were completely blank. “You could like, fuck me next time. Then I could maybe, order pizza or something.”

“Sure.”


End file.
